


Comfort and Joy

by witchofletters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen, Little bit of Mary Sue in my life, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21876481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchofletters/pseuds/witchofletters
Summary: The Winchesters are celebrating their very first family Christmas in the Bunker.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/OFCs, Sam Winchester/OFC
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Comfort and Joy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evansrogerskitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evansrogerskitten/gifts).



> Dead characters are alive and everything is happy. Some serious Mary-Sues. Schmaltz-y holiday goodness for my sisterwife.

“I don’t do anything different than you do!” Sam’s laugh echoed through the library, bouncing off the high stone walls, mingling with strains of Christmas music. “It’s just a cider mix, sweetness.” Sam set a steaming mug at Aislinn’s elbow where she sat diligently filling out sticky gift tags. 

“It’s  _ better _ when you make it!” She sparkled up at her husband, eyes like spiced rum. She lifted her chin, presenting her pout for a kiss and Sam happily complied. 

“Hey, now, mistletoe is over there, kids,” Dean scolded teasingly. His arms were heaped with wrapped but otherwise unadorned packages, which he set on the next table over, alongside the one where Mercedes was tying huge glittery bows around brightly colored paper-wrapped gifts, Ashley holding a finger on the knots, passing scissors and tape and pens as needed. Two fat tortie cats lounged on the far end of the table, batting lazily at the ribbons and raffia. 

“Oh shut up,” all three girls said in unison, making Dean chortle as he went to the turntable to flip the record. Bing Crosby’s rich baritone strains of “White Christmas” filled the library. Dean ambled back to the table, bracing his hands on the back of Ashley’s chair, dipping his head to kiss her head, inhaling the soft shampoo smell of her hair. 

For the first time in ages, he was  _ stupid  _ excited for Christmas. The Bunker was decorated lavishly for the holidays; a massive tree stood sentry on the dias just in front of the telescope, adorned with soft white lights, dripping in colorful, glittery ornaments. He’d found a two door version of the Impala on Ebay and he’d hung it reverently on a high bough. Another huge red Christmas ball splashed with a curly silver  _ “W”  _ hung alongside it, the “family ball” as Mercy had called it. She’d insisted on all six of the Winchester clan have their fingertips on it when it was hung; she’d had Sam snap a selfie with his phone, the three girls smushed in between he and his brother, Jack tucked under Aislinn’s arm, happy and, except for Jack, tipsy smiles on their faces. Dean had made it his phone background. 

“Deano, would you start a grocery list?” 

He turned his attention to Mercy.“Hell, yeah. I’ll do it so Sammy doesn’t get a bunch of healthy shit.”

Sam glared at him. “Pretty sure it was me that brought home the tray of baklava, so…”

“Did you just end a sentence with ‘so’, Mister Passive Aggressive?” Aislinn teased. Sam’s goofy smirk widened.

“Fair enough!” Dean laughed. “Alright, hit me.” He pulled out the chair next to Ashley, who slid a notepad and pen towards him. He mimed licking the tip of the pen and set it to the page. 

“Three cans of pumpkin, two pounds of Granny Smith apples, ten pound bag of flour…” Mercy paused thoughtfully. “No, make it two bags.”

“Pecans!” Ashley interjected. “I want pecan pie,” she said, turning to Mercy, kissing her cheek when she nodded in agreement. “Maybe some divinity too?”

“Yeah! And more butter. Like ...Paula Deen amounts of butter.”

“And we need more cinnamon, ginger, cardamom and sage,” Aislinn added.

“Big thing of eggnog and a bottle of brandy. Maybe another of the Brown Sugar Bourbon too,” was Sam’s addition to the list. 

“You lush,” Dean said as he scribbled furiously, the girls continuing to rattle off all the trimmings for a fun ol’ fashioned family Christmas. A turkey, prime rib, even a small ham.

Mercedes had insisted that ALL their friends and family come to Kansas for the holiday. Sam had been quick to agree; they had plenty of space and it was the only place that witches, werewolves, shapeshifters, fae and humans could coexist safely. Garth and Bess had just had a little girl; Eileen, Kevin and Charlie were eager to have a family celebration; it was Jack’s very first Christmas; even Rowena would be popping in for dinner on Christmas Eve. 

“Laundry detergent, too,” Sam added with a laugh, flipping his pocket knife open. He sliced the tape on a cardboard box labeled  _ Garland and Lights.  _

“Jesus, guys, I’m gonna have to rent a U-Haul to go three hours to Costco in Lincoln!”

"Well, you better get a move on, then!” Ashley joked, bumping her shoulder gently into his. He smiled and lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. 

“You’re just lucky you’re so damned cute,” he grumbled, feigning irritation. 

“I know!” She batted her long lashes at him and he rolled his eyes. 

Sam pulled carefully coiled strings of light wrapped garland from the box and, being as that he had the greatest wingspan, began draping them around the columns in the library according to Aislinn’s instruction. 

“It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas” began on the record, joyful orchestral accompaniment making it feel like they were in a Hallmark movie. Dean stood to pour himself a couple fingers of JW, watching his family quietly from near the bar cart. He inhaled the rich aroma of the whisky, mixed with the smells of apple and evergreen. His heart was  _ happy _ . 

For the first time in pretty much forever, he was having a family celebration, just as it should be; his brother happily married to a woman that understood everything in his life, from hunting to Hell. Dean himself had  _ two  _ women in his life, and it wasn’t even a kinky thing. Ashley and Mercy called each other sisterwives even though no vows had been exchanged between the three of them. He was dying to rectify that though. He’d been daydreaming about presenting them each with a perfect ring, sparkling and beautiful and unique like each of them. The legality of a formal marriage wasn’t important, just that he made it clear that there was never gonna be anyone else for him.

They had their heads bowed over an oddly shaped package, wrapping it with a stubborn length of plaid ribbon. Dark auburn and shining titian waves caught the light and sparked like embers. Aislinn’s curls were so dark they looked purple as she watched Sam, balanced effortlessly on the step ladder, pine boughs hanging in perfect swags; even the fine silver streaks in Sam’s hair caught the soft holiday light. They might as well be a Norman Rockwell painting. 

Soft footsteps chuffed down the hall. Jack, wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater the world had ever seen, was a golden apparition. The reindeer’s antlers on his slippers bounced with each step, in time with the gentle tinkle of the bells that adorned his Santa hat.

“You look happy, Dean,” he commented matter-of-factly. “I know  _ I'm  _ happy.” Dean draped his arm around the nephil’s shoulders, pulling him close and kissing the red and white fur atop his head. They were a motley crew, but a closer family didn’t exist. 

“Yeah, kiddo,” he said fondly, pulling his adopted son closer, “I’m happy.”


End file.
